


Rich Girl$

by maraudertimes



Series: the chaos universe [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Angst, Break Up, Challenge Entry, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Harry Potter Next Generation, Humor, Love Hurts, Post-Break Up, Romance, Song: Rich Girl$, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:27:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28265394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudertimes/pseuds/maraudertimes
Summary: you're a rich girl and it's gone too farcause you know it don't matter anywayJames Potter just wanted to find a roommate. Claire Zabini was never part of the equation... until she was.
Relationships: James Sirius Potter/Original Female Character(s)
Series: the chaos universe [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1757242
Kudos: 6





	Rich Girl$

The intact flyers stare at me from the coffee shop bulletin board, laughing at my failure. When Lily suggested I stop looking for a roommate online (which was also a total fail), I thought that someone would be interested. Now, a month later and two months into paying both halves of the rent for a two bedroom unit, I am woefully still living alone. Don't get me wrong, it's tons of fun - I get to walk around naked whenever I want, and there's never any awkward moments with hookups the morning after, and telling a girl you live alone in a two bedroom somehow works as a pickup line - but the financials of it all are killing me.

I tear the flyers down in a huff. The Hog might not have been the best way to advertise an apartment seeing as it's an on-campus coffee shop and it's the summer, but I want a cool roommate. Someone I can go out with and doesn't get mad when I come home wasted at five in the morning on a Sunday. I might be a ‘professional' now, but you can never take the party out of the boy.

Maybe I'll try online advertising again...

* * *

Hours later I'm waiting outside Ollivander's. One of the biggest perks of my apartment is that it's right downtown, and my favourite club is now within walking distance. Unfortunately tonight I'm flying solo - the rest of my delinquent gang are busy. Fred's still on vacation with his family until next week, Darren's at his girlfriend's for her dad's birthday (I know, right), and Porter's still out of commission from his wisdom teeth surgery last week. Even the Unholy Trinity are busy. So here I am standing outside Ollivander's with my dick in my own hand - metaphorically of course.

The bouncer waves me up and I flash my ID at him along with a winning smile. "Good night tonight, Carson?" I know all the people you need to know on Diagon Alley.

Carson grunts, his head nodding me into the club. It's the most I've gotten out of him in years. I leave him with a salute and a reminder to take the stick out of his ass and skip inside. Immediately I'm greeted with flashing pink lights and balloons, both of which bounce across the crowd. Ladies' Night - the best night of the week. They're only held during University terms, and since most of campus has summer off, it's been two months of only showing up on weekends. But Thursdays at Ollivander's has blossomed once again.

I pass by the front bar, sending a quick wave to Jenna behind the bar. The front bar is always swamped on Ladies' Night, so the back one is my target. It takes a minute to reach it, having to dodge multiple groups of girls who really should be going home soon. One of them even reaches out and pinches my ass, which I would appreciate if, you know, she had asked first. But no matter, I get where I need to be, the exact change I need for a Butterbeer - Ollivander's tried and true specialty drink - and a nice tip in hand.

That's the key to being allowed back in after being kicked out so many times. You always gotta tip your bartenders well. Jason gives me a nod before helping the girls beside me and I can't blame him - Ladies' Night is for the ladies after all. Even if it takes me a little longer to get my drink, it all works out for me by the end of the night.

I turn my head to check the dance floor, a familiar sense of excitement rushing through me. That's the best part of clubs - dancing. Nothing's better than getting a few drinks are you and just letting it loose. I'm not a good dancer by any means, but the confidence works out in my favour.

"What can I get ya?" A voice asks, sending chills down my spine and making my heart skip a beat. I turn back to the bar and my stomach drops as my eyes connect with hers.

Claire Zabini is standing in front of me. Well, behind the bar. Standing in front of me but behind the bar she is behind. Claire Zabini is here... in Ollivander's.

"Oh shit..."

* * *

Claire's nails rake down my chest, no doubt leaving scratch marks. Her full lips part to let out the sexiest noise I've ever heard. She pulls her hair up out of her face with one hand while the other is firmly planted next to my head, her hips moving up and down against me in a way that makes me believe in a heaven, even if it only exists between her legs.

My hands are on her hips, on her breasts, on her neck pulling her in for a tongue-curling kiss. There is so much of Claire Zabini to love and only a finite amount of time to do so. She is soft and warm, so beautiful I want to take a photo of her and have it hanging in every room I'm ever in.

"James, I'm close. _James!_ "

I pull her in for another kiss as my other hand reaches between us and begins the slow and tortuous ministrations against her clit that I know she loves. We've had lots of practice at this, I know exactly what makes her tick. She moans again against my lips as her body begins to tense and I know that's my cue to take over. I start moving more forcefully underneath her, trying to match the rhythm she only just stopped. My thumb moves faster against her, she clenches around me in ecstasy and then I'm there with her, my hearty sounds of pleasure mixing with hers.

 _Damn,_ I think quickly to myself as my own orgasm subsides, _I owe Darren a cake or something for putting up with us._

We're both sweaty and panting, Claire having fallen against my chest, a couple loose strands brushing against my chin. It only takes her a few moments to compose herself before she's sliding off me - Claire Zabini doesn't really do post-sex cuddling.

 _Too sweaty,_ she once told me. _I feel sticky. Besides, this isn't that serious._

Like every other time before, she gracefully slips off the bed and makes her way to the bathroom, grabbing my Puddlemere housecoat from off the hook on the door and my Puddlemere slippers from beneath them. Like every other time before, I roll the condom off my dick and tie it before chucking it in the bin in the corner, then I wipe myself off with a pair of shorts I find in the corner - tomorrow's laundry day anyways. Like every other time before, I pull on a pair of boxers and lie back down in bed, waiting for her to get back.

* * *

"James! You're here!"

It's strange to hear her say my name like this, shouting over a loud club. I got used to her hushed whispers and gasped breaths. It's been years since I've seen her, but Claire Zabini still looks like my wildest fantasies and sexiest dreams rolled into one. Her normally wild hair is pinned back in a bun, but a stray curl is tucked behind her ear in a way that can only be described as sexy. Even in the Ollivander's bartender uniform of all black she radiates sex appeal, her dark skin glowing under the low pink lighting.

"James?"

"Oh uh," I stammer, realizing that I've just been staring at her while she waits for a response. "A Butterbeer please." Please dear god tell me I didn't just give her a drink order instead of acknowledging that I know her. I want the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

Claire's brow furrows but she nods quickly and turns around to grab my drink. A bead of sweat races down my back. Ollivander's usually runs a bit warm, but I doubt that's the issue at hand. No, the thing making me so nervous that I'm literally sweating is the fact that Claire Zabini is here. At Ollivander's. Bringing me a Butterbeer.

She sets the glass down in front of me, not even a whisper of a smile on her lips. "That'll be 4.25$."

I hand her the money without thinking, and she turns to leave. "Wait!" I yelp, earning a look from the gaggle of girls to my left. "Claire, I'm sorry, you just... caught me off guard."

Claire slowly turns back to me, the edges of her lips turning up. She looks down at the change in her hand before looking back up at me through her long lashes. "Good to know you haven't forgotten me, James."

That's my Claire. The one who says my name like it's silk. The one who looks at me like she's the only one who can break me apart and put me back together again.

"It's been a while."

"Yeah it's been some time," Claire trills, her eyes darting to the other end of the bar where some of the other club patrons are glaring daggers at me.

A quick shake of my head clears the fog I feel whenever her eyes meet mine. "Sorry, you're working. When do you get off, we could go out for a couple of beers."

Another slight smile as she reaches up to tuck the stray curl back behind her ear. "Not until four."

"I'll see you at four then." It's more of a statement than a question. "There's a late night grilled cheese place down the alley."

Claire nods and our eyes meet one last time before she turns and makes her way to her customers. The Butterbeer in front of me suddenly seems too tantalizing. I reach in and grab the ice inside, chucking it in the nearby bar sink, before taking the glass and chugging. If I'm to make it to 4AM, knowing that Claire Zabini is here, within reach, I can't be sober.

* * *

Last call comes and goes. The stragglers slowly leave, their Broomers arriving outside to whisk them away into the night, until I'm the only one left. I want to catch Claire's eye one last time, let her know I'm waiting, but Carson is as diligent as ever.

"No one keeping you warm tonight?" he asks as he walks me out.

Normally I would've given him hell for actually using words - a full sentence at that! - but Claire Zabini's reappearance in my life has scrambled what few brain cells I have left. I just shrug at him before leaving Ollivander's warmth and bright lights for the cold and dark outside. I didn't bother to bring a coat, since it's such a short walk home, but I don't want to risk going home to grab one and missing Claire when she leaves, so I find an empty and mostly clean bench across the alley.

Time seems to both fly and stand still, and within seconds or hours, I really can't tell, there she is, walking out the door I've been thrown out of more times than I can count. Wrapped up in a long coat that gives me just a glimpse of her bare legs, Claire's eyes search the alley before landing on me.

 _You should wave,_ a voice in my head tells me. _At least smile._

But I don't, and Claire makes her way over to me regardless. If I thought she was gorgeous in the light of Ollivander's, it's nothing compared to what she looks like under the streetlamps.

"Anyone sitting here?" she asks cheekily before sliding onto the bench next to me.

We sit like that, next to each other, close but not touching, both staring ahead for a moment before I speak up. "You've popped up on my DailyProphet every now and again. When you change your profile pic. Photos never did do your smile justice though."

"James..."

"How's your dad doing," I switch gears, leaning back to spread my arms across the back of the bench. "Still rolling in all that money? Come on Claire, that's a joke you're supposed to laugh," I add when she gives me a pointed look.

She sighs, leaning back as well, resting the back of her neck against the tips of my fingers. "James Potter, always the joker."

"Last I heard you'd switched from a business major to studying visual arts. Dropped it to bartend I see." My fingers begin to move of their own accord, trailing lightly against her smooth skin, running along her hairline.

"Thought you were taking me for grilled cheese."

Claire Zabini. Ever so difficult. I stand and offer her my hand but she ignores it. Claire's never needed me before, why would now be different?

* * *

"I thought you said we were meeting your dad for a day out on his boat," I say as we walk onto the massive yacht. I feel a bit silly with the cheap wine and sunblock I have in my bag, considering that there's a hot tub just to our left - a hot tub on a boat? I mean what? "This isn't really a boat..."

Claire laughs, throwing her head back to show off her gorgeous neck. I want to nip at the pulse point that I know tickles her in just the right way. My pants tighten uncomfortably and I force myself to think of anything else - Grandma Weasley, Albus's pet toad, Fred's weird foot thing he can do where he crosses his second toe under the big one, _Grandma Weasley in the shower_! It's one thing to be around Claire Zabini on campus when everyone expects me to act like a sex-crazed first year, but on my way to meet her father on his yacht that costs more than my parents house? Sorry - his _boat_ that costs more than my parents house.

"It floats on the water and it has a captain. It's a boat," she explains. 

Claire's hand tugs me forward as we pass by the hot tub (hot tub!) and into the cabin of the ‘boat'. If I thought the outside screamed wealth, the inside is so much louder. A crystal chandelier hangs above our heads, swaying slightly with the movement of the waves.

"Normal boats don't have captains," I try to retort, but the words seem lost in the grandness of everything around me.

A man in a black suit comes over to offer us glasses of what I have to assume is champagne. I shake my head to decline, but Claire takes one as if this isn't some wild world we've just walked into. As I gawk at our surroundings she continues to pull me by the hand through hallway after hallway. Gold portrait frames adorn the walls, and at one point I swear I saw a baby grand in one of the rooms, but Claire doesn't stop until we've reached a large sitting room with about eight couches and - from what I can tell - a fully stocked bar.

"Vincent," Claire calls to the bartender, "is my father around? He said he would be meeting my around now."

The man gives us an apologetic smile as he polishes a glass. "Terribly sorry, Miss Zabini. I'm fairly certain I heard him mention a trip to Rome before he left an hour ago."

"No matter," Claire sighs, turning back to me before wrapping her arms around my neck. "If he isn't here, I'm sure we can find a way to pass the time..."

Her suggestive wink tightens my pants again. "That would... that would be nice," I struggle to say in an even tone.

"Great! I can finally show you how much more fun you can have in a California king," she winks dangerously, and I wonder what I have gotten myself into.

* * *

"So you must have graduated by now," Claire says expectantly.

"Yeah, got a job at a company nearby. I basically get to spend all day sketching and planning buildings and they pay me for it. I might even get my own office soon."

Claire chuckles, her hand brushing against mine as we walk. "James Potter, living the dream. Meanwhile I'm stuck in a shitty apartment, bartending just to make ends meet."

"Woah woah woah, Claire Zabini is working for a living?" I press. "Thought your old man would've had you set up with a house and car by now. You're not slumming it by choice?"

"Tell me about it. Wanted to teach me the value of a dollar so I'm stuck paying my own rent until the lesson sticks, or so he says."

We're just about to turn a corner but instead I stop dead in my tracks. Claire turns to me, her brow furrowed.

"You just have to pay your own rent?"

Claire rolls her eyes at me before threading her arm around mine to pull me forward with her - a gesture that sets off butterflies in my stomach. "Well, yeah, but rent's expensive. I'm barely able to afford the penthouse at the RavenClaw Tower, and you and I both know that's bottom of the barrel real estate. I had to get that job at Ollivander's and even so I'm still digging into my trust fund."

I stop again and Claire lets out a frustrated groan. "You're not working to make ends meet, Claire. Your heiress is showing again."

"Don't call me that."

* * *

"I can't believe you invited Claire Zabini," Lily grumbles. We're seated at our regular Wednesday night table at Brigg's BBQ for weekly wing night. "You could've at least warned me."

"If I had, would you have shown up," I ask.

Lily rolls her eyes, which I mimic - to her further annoyance. The great things about being an older brother is knowing just the right buttons I can push with Lil to really grind her gears. Imitating her is one of those buttons. The waiter brings our drinks, a sprite for Lily and a coke and orange soda for me, and like always, Lily grimaces. My soda choice also seems to be a button - but I don't press that one intentionally. I just like mixing coke and orange soda.

She takes a sip of her drink before continuing. "Alright, break down your week for me quickly. Before the heiress appears!"

"Wow, thought that insult died with high school," I joke, but quickly sober up when Lily glares at me. Claire and Lily's rivalry in high school wasn't extreme, but I know that some harsh words were exchanged on either end, and tonight is supposed to be my way of rebuilding that bridge. "Sorry, sorry. Anyways, my week's been fairly uneventful. Got a project due next week that my group mates are half-assing but I'm sure we'll be able to pull it together. Midterms the week after that so probably gonna be pulling a lot of all-nighters, and Mom called last night, said you've been dodging her."

This time it's Lily's turn to look like an admonished child. "Yeah, she'll want to talk about my break up with Col-"

"Sorry for interrupting," Claire chirps as she slips into the seat beside me. "James, thanks for inviting me."

She reaches over to kiss me lightly on the cheek before shrugging off her jacket and passing it to me. Whatever Lily was saying has been erased from my memory though as I take in Claire Zabini. She's wearing a black dress that really is overkill for Brigg's, and a shimmering necklace that dips dangerously low on her chest. And her lips are that sinful red she pulls off so well, a red that only a few days ago she was wearing while her lips were... The fact that I'm sitting across from my sister is really killing my vibe right now. I try and distract myself by draping her coat on the back of my chair but it's hard. Pun intended.

"Lily."

"Claire."

Well at least they're being cordial. At least until the waiter comes over to take Claire's drink order - ice water with both a lime and lemon wedge - and Lily rolls her eyes.

"Something you'd like to say, Lily?" Claire purses her lips, something that I usually find sexy, but right now just feels like the precursor to something I definitely don't want to be a part of.

Lily's eyes narrow as she crosses her arms and leans back in her chair. "Oh nothing, just glad to see you never really grow out of being entitled, do you? I mean, wearing a multi-million dollar necklace to half-priced wing night, just really playing into that I'm-better-than-everyone mindset, aren't you, _heiress_."

"You never do grow out of being a jealous bitch, do you?" Claire throws back, reaching out to place her hand on my arm in full view of Lily. "Just because Colin dumped you, doesn't mean everyone else has to be single and miserable with you, _Loony_."

At the mention of her ex-boyfriend Lily's face goes red and I'm on my feet without even realizing what I'm doing. "Stop! Just stop, both of you!"

Lily glares at me, though I know from experience she can't actually kill me with her eyes. And across from her, Claire Zabini just watches me, in that way only she can. Suddenly it feels wrong to have brought her here to Brigg's BBQ on half-priced wing night. She doesn't belong here. Not in a dingy pub with terrible lighting and sticky floors. Claire Zabini deserves better than this.

* * *

"Life isn't just rent, Claire. It's everything." I shake my head incredulously as we round the last corner. "It's the drinks at the club, the clothes you buy, the shoes you wear. It's the shitty two bedroom apartment that I can't find a roommate for, which I have to pay full price for. And I don't have a trust fund I can dip into if I'm a little short on cash for my weekend in Paris."

Now it's her turn to stop abruptly, her nails digging into my arm through the thin shirt I'm wearing. "I didn't ask for your opinion. In fact, you were the one who waited all night to talk to me. Maybe I should just go."

"Maybe you should," I snap, harsher than I intended. "Leave like you always do, Claire. Nothing matters anyway. Not to Claire Zabini. Not when you can rely on daddy's money to whisk you away from your problems."

"James-"

"Face it, Claire. The world's different for you than anyone else." I untangle my arm from hers and give her a disgusted look. "I just hope you figure out who you are without the Rich Girl title, because one of these days something's gonna happen, and money only gets you so far."

I give her one last look, my heart breaking exactly like it did all those years ago, before turning and walking away, back towards Ollivander's and, eventually, my apartment.

"James," she cries out after me, but she's either too stunned to follow, or she doesn't care enough to bother. "James!"

* * *

Claire Zabini is sleeping, her every breath like music in the otherwise quiet room. I want to hold her like this forever, to have this moment last a lifetime. This, in the minutes before she wakes up, is when I see Claire's vulnerability. The little shivers she'll get for no reason, her body trembling against mine for a single moment before going still again.

"I love you," I whisper, half-hoping she's awake and will say it back. "I love you, Claire Zabini."

I let myself relish in this peacefulness before drifting off. When I wake up, she's gone. There's just a note on the counter that says ‘ _This got too serious_.'

Three weeks later she's in Paris and I'm at the bottom of a bottle.

* * *

The next morning greets me like a frying pan to the face. Having forgotten to pull my blinds closed when I had gotten home, the sun beats into my eyes bright and early. I groan, rolling over and shoving a pillow over my head. Memories of what happened last night rushes at me, and I let out another groan. Claire Zabini was at Ollivander's. Claire Zabini smiled at me. Claire Zabini took my arm, like no time had passed. And I had yelled at her in the middle of Diagon Alley.

I want to go back to sleep, but I know that my alarm for work will probably sound soon anyways, so I drag myself out of bed. Shower. Put bread in toaster. Start coffee machine. Mornings are routine now, after two months of perfecting them. But just as I'm about to dump about three tablespoons of sugar into my coffee mug, there's a knock at my door.

I peek into the hallway that leads to my front door, convinced I imagined it until it happens again. It's too early for my landlord, and I can't think of anyone else who would be here this early on a Friday, unless Fred somehow forgot that I'm now a supposed adult with a job I have to go to. It takes me only a few seconds to reach the door, but already the knocking happens again, this time insistent.

"What?!" I spit as I open the door only for my face to go slack.

Claire Zabini stands in front of me, a large suitcase propped up next to her. The fact that I'm only wearing boxers is not readily apparent to me, and I'm very glad that my morning shower took care of any embarrassing situation. Although with Claire Zabini, I can't really say I'm strictly out of boner territory at any point.

"You were right," she says blowing past me into my apartment. "I don't want to be just the Rich Girl anymore."

Bewildered, I stick my head out into the hallway to make sure no one else is around before closing my door and turning to stare at her. Claire Zabini is in my living room. With one of the apartment flyers I obviously missed during the great Hog flyer takedown of yesterday afternoon.

She shoves the flyer into my bare chest and smirks her damned smirk. "You need a roommate and I need someone who's not afraid to call me out on my rich bitch tendencies. So, what do you say?"

If last night I was speechless, right now I'm completely struck dumb. Claire Zabini is in my living room. Claire Zabini wants to be my roommate. Claire Zabini, living in the same apartment as me. Claire Zabini, eating at the same dinner table as me. Claire Zabini, showering in the same shower as me.

... And there's that boner I was worried about.

**Author's Note:**

> do i hate it? yes. do i also love it? absolutely. any last thoughts i have? go stream rich girl$ by down with webster


End file.
